


Haircut

by Shayvaalski



Series: The Kids Are Alright [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, Ficlet, Gen, I Don't Even Know, Kid Fic, Oh My God, Original Character(s), Parentlock, Post Reichenbach, Snapshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-29
Updated: 2012-04-16
Packaged: 2017-11-02 17:41:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shayvaalski/pseuds/Shayvaalski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snapshot fic of an older Siobhan Moran, a dozen years after Jim Moriarty brings her home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Haircut

Siobhan, in a fit of pique, cuts off all her hair three days before she turns twenty-one, with the scissors that Tommy has purposely dulled down so much that they barely cut paper, and when they stop working she breaks the lock on the knife cabinet and uses Tommy’s best kitchen blade to finish it off. Bhan has never done more than trim her hair before and as she pants in the middle of the flat she is fascinated by its length against the tile, the lightness of her shoulders, captivated by the way the air feels on her neck and the hollow of her throat.

When Tommy comes home from class ten minutes later he says, Your dad is going to blame this on me (he’s right, though Seb will also understand, intimately), and locks the knives and scissors in the Secret Box under his bed which even Bhan in a mood will never touch, and she makes him drive her halfway across town to a salon she picks out of the newspaper at random. By the time they finish her hair is as short as mum’s, though still thicker and darker, and Siobhan keeps shoving her hands through it with pleasure, thoroughly worked up but suitably distracted, Tommy driving with one hand on the wheel and the other against the nape of her cool bare neck.

The noise dad makes when they go home for her birthday that weekend is the best gift Siobhan gets, because after thirteen years with her and eighteen with Jim he’s hard to surprise and harder still to pull a reaction from. The suit mum gives her is almost as good, retailored just for her, smelling of cedar and gun oil and faintly of blood, and when Siobhan puts it on dad says  _Jesus_  and mum begins to laugh. When Tommy whistles low and impressed she goes for the mirror in the master bedroom (cracked down the side, replaced twice in the last year), Jim right behind her, and when Siobhan flings open the wardrobe door that hides it there are two Moriartys looking back, her and mum so alike she almost cannot breathe.

My girl, says mum, and gives her hand a squeeze. My good girl, and Siobhan stares at herself with something like hunger, and sees her future staring back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly I picture Bhan with long hair, but I ran into a really nice femme Moriarty on AskFemlock with [shorn hair](http://askfemlock.tumblr.com/post/20053698173/oh-this-wasnt-meant-for-me-how-rude-of-me-m), (by shhhsekkrit) and it pleased me and also suddenly plotbunny. 
> 
> This is a good twelve or fourteen years on from Runs In The Family; there's a much longer fic or two coming that fall firmly in the middle, and another much later.
> 
> You might want to check out ["Family Business"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/371740) (ongoing) to get a better idea of who Tom O'Doyle is to Siobhan.


	2. Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second snapshot fic of an older Siobhan Moran, at perhaps twenty-five years old.

The day it begins, Siobhan helps dad get dressed. This has been mum’s job for at least twenty years, low murmurs and hisses of displeasure when Seb moves before he’s supposed to, when he wrinkles his shirt by pulling it on too quickly, when he shifts restlessly while Jim knots his tie. 

But this morning, mum had tilted his head to the side, glanced over at dad where he stood in his undershirt at the stove, making eggs and bacon, and hummed beneath his breath, dark eyes glinting. Then he’d rolled his neck, bones and sinews cracking, and said, “Best make sure your daddy looks his best today, pet. It’s time we got started.”

Dad stands quietly as Siobhan does up his cufflinks, adjusts his tie. When she runs her slim boyish fingers over his shoulders, careful of dust, of lint, Seb reaches up, takes one of her hands. She stills, wordless, listening. 

“Don’t forget,” he says. “It’s Siobhan Moriarty, when we’re doing business.” 

She laughs, picks up a knife from the table, and tosses it in the air before handing it to dad. He tucks it into his sleeve, and she smoothes her hair with one hand, stands next to him to look in the mirror. Siobhan’s mum stares back. She is not likely to forget. 

“Yeah, dad. I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly I'm interested in Siobhan as a young child through to a teenager, but I like to write snippets of what she'll be like as an adult. Originally posted on [tumblr](http://shayvaalski.tumblr.com/post/20811479223/suit-up-sebastian-i-dont-want-you-murdering), to accompany a gifset that I was particularly entranced by.


End file.
